


Velvet Underground

by englandwouldfalljohn



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Dirty Talk, Drabble, Hand Jobs, M/M, Not Beta Read, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Hand Jobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:06:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25858645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/englandwouldfalljohn/pseuds/englandwouldfalljohn
Summary: Aziraphale convinces Crowley to use the underground. Crowley convinces Aziraphale to let himself be driven down below.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 81





	Velvet Underground

Despite ticking off a list of objections a mile long, Crowley had come along in the end. The tube at rush hour was as expected—flooded with easily agitated, clearly under-caffeinated patrons. Aziraphale wasn’t having second thoughts, exactly, but the miserable expression clouding his companion’s sharp features as a new wave of people boarded their carriage did produce a pang of guilt he felt compelled to justify.

“You’ll cause fewer incidents, and anyway it is good for the environment.”

In response, Crowley reached out and gripped Aziraphale’s hips, tugging him hard against his body, back to front. Crowley leaned against the train, letting the motion do half the work itself… until he closed those few inches to breathe heavily into Aziraphale’s ear.

“Angelllllll...”

“C-Crowley, dont...”

Slim fingers burned through cotton trousers, locked onto involuntarily rocking hips.

“The thought of having you... claiming you... right here, where anyone could see...”

A choked whimper gave him all the consent he needed to continue.

“If I just... sssslide my hand through...” Aziraphale’s zipper released, and he felt a warm hand make its way in, under, around, his blond head tipping back heavily against a black velvet shoulder.

“Look at you. Rutting that beautiful plush body of yours against me, letting me stroke your perfect cock right here before half of London… You want to feel me, don’t you. You’re desperate for more, want me to sink myself inside if you, fuck you until you can’t see straight.”

Aziraphale’s heart thundered in his chest, desire and shame mingling in his veins, creating a solution more potent than anything wielded by heaven or hell. Crowley’s hand pumped him furiously, and though he knew there was no way to make it through this undetected, he couldn’t help himself. Reaching back, he palmed at the backs of thinly clad thighs, levering himself against Crowley’s body and thrusting his own hips back as if his life depended on it. 

Teeth sunk into the shell of his ear, stifling a moan.

“Oh Angel, what you do to me...”

Aziraphale’s eyes clenched shut, the crowd disappeared, and there was nothing but the pounding of blood in his ears and the most devilish human sensations mounting, cresting, overtaking his sense of righteous decorum, his very sense of self.

His eyes snapped open as the train jostled to a stop, disgusted looks from commuters causing a rush of crimson to his cheeks as he hurried onto the platform, his partner sauntering smugly through the doors behind him.

“Well,” Aziraphale cleared his throat self-consciously, “that was... unexpected. Where... that is, um... where were we headed?”

Crowley smirked as they exited onto the street, nodding toward the Bentley conveniently parked by the entrance to the station.

“Home, Angel. I believe I owe you a ride.”  
  
  
  



End file.
